Living my Enemy's Life
by Sadako Kurosawa
Summary: Every student in Hogwarts knows of Ron Weasley’s rivalry with Draco Malfoy. But what if they had to live each other’s lives after a deal between Lucius and Voldemort?
1. Chapter One

_Living my Enemy's Life  
Chapter One_

_  
Written by: Chibi Sephy  
  
On: July third and fourth, 2004_

_

* * *

Summary: Everyone in Hogwarts knows of Ron Weasley's rivalry with Draco  
Malfoy. But what if they had to live each other's lives after a deal  
between Lucius and Voldemort?

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Hello, my lovely readers! First, I would like to mention that this is probably going to be a novel length fanfiction, and will- hopefully-be completed. As long as I have the time, and the inspiration, I probably will finish it.  
  
As you can probably tell from the summary, this fic is going to be about a switch between Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley. I know it has been done a few times before, and by far better writers than me, but I decided to take a shot at it. I love all those 'You are your own worst enemy' changing fics. I've written one before, though it wasn't for Harry Potter.  
  
Fortunately, or unfortunately, it depends on how you look at it; this will probably be my only author's note. However, for those of you who review, I shall do my best to review your fics in my gratitude.  
  
Well, enough of my mindless chatter. On with the fic! _

* * *

  
"Lucius," said a cold, emotionless voice. "One of my most loyal servants... How would you like to help your master fulfill his plan to destroy Harry Potter, single-handedly, and receive all the credit and reward?"  
  
"I-I would l-love to serve you in any way possible, my lord," replied the adult opposite of the other, his face hidden behind a gigantic mask, in a half-bow of respect to the one he served. "Especially since you helped me escape Azkaban, although I disappointed you before."  
  
A small smirk came across the first person's skeletal face, his red eyes gleaming brightly as he stared down at his servant, Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"I would not have bothered, if I had not a use for you, Lucius," The red- eyed one stated simply, amusement evident in his low voice. "For Lord Voldemort usually does not free those whom let themselves known to the other side."  
  
"I sincerely apologize for that, my lo-"Lucius responded quickly, the tone in his voice rising a notch in slight panic. However, Voldemort soon cut him off, with one simple word.  
  
"Silence," He ordered, without bothering to move an inch. Lucius automatically obeyed, and not a word more came from him. "And rise from that pathetic bow. For I know that your 'aristocratic' blood does not like to bend down to others for long, whether they serve them or not."  
  
Lucius hesitantly rose to an absolute standing position, and even though he knew what Voldemort had said was true, he feared that his lord would not like it. Fortunately, it was not mentioned again, and another subject was begun.  
  
"The mission I mentioned before," Voldemort started, "Actually deals more with your son than you." He paused and waited for a moment, waiting to see if Lucius would protest. Nothing came, verbally or physically.  
  
"It involves young Draco, and little Potter's best friend-the youngest Weasley son." He explained, immediately noting that Lucius's posture had changed, and that he was now becoming quite uneasy, and Voldemort instantly knew why—Wizarding families such as the Malfoys simply did not want their Pureblood children to fraternize with wizards and witches such as the Weasleys.  
  
Voldemort could not help but smirk once more; being as he knew what Lucius thought his plan was-but his plan was far more different, and not to mention much more daring and risky.  
  
"No, it does not involve your son becoming friends with the youngest Weasley son and then moving on to Potter himself, to gain trust for our side—Rather, I shall say that Draco will--ah--become the Weasley himself."  
  
Lucius automatically flinched, finding the idea to be quite ridiculous. His lone heir, whom was practically the clone of himself at that age, act as a Weasley? It was absurd!  
  
"But they would notice if my son was missing!" The usually calm Death Eater blurted out without a thought, but soon realized what he had done and quickly fell silent.  
  
Voldemort chuckled, sounding more like a distant roll of thunder than actual laughing.  
  
"Lucius, Lucius," He reprimanded, "Do you really think I do not have a way to execute such a mission?"  
  
Lucius began to stare down at the ground, feeling ashamed.  
  
"I apologize once again, my lord," He muttered quietly. Normally, the witches and wizards that knew him would find this the most astounding. The tall, proud, exceedingly arrogant Lucius Malfoy speaking in such a way? But this was the way it is around people that the Malfoys served.  
  
"Just do not distrust my judgment again..." Voldemort replied, his voice as smooth as ice. "Now, for the plan. Please don't interrupt me this time."  
  
Lucius nodded once, to show that he would obey.  
  
"Of course, if your son was missing, and with your escaping Azkaban, those light-headed fools are bound to realize something." Voldemort paused for a moment, and shook his head slightly, as if he found the thought unlikely. "So, we shall do a 'switch', between your son and the Weasley."  
  
The other's breathing involuntarily sped up, though he remained soundless.  
  
"For this to be able to work, we must use Polyjuice. However, this would be quite a hindrance, yes?  
  
"So, I experimented, using two criminal Muggles that would not be missed—or noticed. I worked upon the Polyjuice Potion, to improve it. My aim was to make it so it lasted longer—in this case, for a long while. To extend the hour for which it is usually allotted.  
  
"My extra solutions which I added to the potion worked--those two Muggles are still wandering about in the opposite's body. And it has been nearly three months."  
  
Lucius let out a gasp of admiration, at which Voldemort genuinely smiled upon.  
  
"Are you willing to use your son towards my worthy cause, my servant?" He questioned, although he already knew the answer.  
  
"Of course, my lord."  
  
"Very well. The potion will be administered to both of them on their first night back at Hogwarts, without either of their knowledge." Voldemort explained, without telling how this was actually possible.  
  
"I hope Draco will serve you well, Master." Lucius stated stonily, which did not betray any sort of emotion that he may have felt.  
  
"I believe he will. And if he does, he and you shall be showered with my gifts." Voldemort responded, knowing half of what he said could very well be a lie.  
  
For there was no proof that Draco Malfoy would ever return to normal, after all.

* * *

_End of Chapter One_


	2. Chapter Two

_Living my Enemy's Life  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Written by: Chibi Sephy  
  
On: July fourth and fifth, 2004_

* * *

Summary: Everyone in Hogwarts knows of Ron Weasley's rivalry with Draco  
Malfoy. But what if they had to live each other's lives after a deal  
between Lucius and Voldemort?

* * *

"You'll do well not to get hexed this time." Said a pale, blonde-headed woman, whom was standing in front of her also blonde teenaged son. "It was truly an embarrassment to get you all fixed up the last time you got off the train."  
  
"I won't get hexed again, Mother," replied her son absentmindedly, watching the Muggles whom were staring at them in the train station they were in—King's Cross, standing between the space between platform nine and ten. Both were dressed in their robes, which seemed quite out of place with the Muggle's clothing. Also, the boy's eagle owl was held within its cage on his cart, which also brought blank stares. Everything else he owned, however, seemed normal enough from the outside. His belongings were currently being kept within his suitcase, which was locked by a spell.  
  
"Good," Narcissa, his mother, responded, in the same tone of voice her son had used moments before. "I suppose it should be time for you to leave now."  
  
"Obviously," Draco stated in a bored manner, now leaning upon his cart. "Good-bye, Mother. I shall see you when Christmas break comes."  
  
"Good-bye, my son," Narcissa said back, and then walked a bit closer to him and kissed him lightly on the forehead. Then, she wordlessly walked out of view from the Muggles, and automatically Apparated away from the station. Draco assumed she would have gone back home, to the manor. Where, apart from a few house elfs, she would be alone. His father had been gone all summer, having been thrown into Azkaban because of that _nauseating_ Potter and his little _minions_.  
  
Draco stayed in the spot where he was for a moment, before finally realizing that a few fellow wizards and witches behind him were calmly waiting for him to go through the barrier towards the train. He hesitantly pulled himself up somewhat, and glanced around, to see if any non-magic people were watching him. Fortunately, none of them were. He then pushed his cart forward, and waltzed coolly through the barrier.

* * *

Once the train employees had taken his baggage, Draco immediately boarded the train, and went towards the Prefect compartment; which were much larger than the ones the normal students used.  
  
All of the prefects of his year were already there, as well as some fifth years and seventh years. He hardly knew any of the younger or older ones, however. Nor did he really care to know them, at that matter. The sixth years sat on a designated bench, as did the other years. Fifth years sat on the right, sixth to the left, and seventh years went straightforward.  
  
Every one of them was sitting next to the person whom was from their house and year. Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil, the Ravenclaw prefects, were sitting on the end of the abnormally long train bench, nearest the door to the left side. Beside Goldstein, was Hannah Abbot, whom was chatting to the male prefect of her house and year, Ernie Macmillan. They belonged to Hufflepuff.  
  
The next pair of people caused Draco's lips to curl in extreme agitation. For they were both part of the 'Golden Trio' of Gryffindor. Sitting next to Macmillan, was the bushy-haired Hermione Granger, and beside her was the tall, lanky, redheaded figure of Ronald Weasley. Neither of them seemed to have noticed Draco's entry, being as Granger was showing Weasley something of hers—a normal Muggle book, by the looks of it.  
  
Draco continued to watch them both, his grey eyes narrow. He then turned away from them, and walked forward, coming to a stop in front of Pansy Parkinson, fellow fifth year Slytherin Prefect, and his girlfriend. She had been forced to sit beside Weasley, and it was obvious that she wished the seating arrangements had been different.  
  
"Hello, Pansy," said Draco; in the smoothest voice he could muster. Pansy jumped aback—she had not expected to hear his voice. She had her wand held high in her left hand, and had been aiming it at the book Granger was holding. Apparently, she was planning to hex it; and then Draco had interrupted her.  
  
"Oh... It's you... Hello, Draco." She answered, lowering her wand and placing it on her lap. She scooted over a bit, bumping into Weasley, forcing him to move over, since she wanted her boyfriend to sit next to her.  
  
"Hey!" Weasley shouted, turning to stare at Pansy in the eye. "Watch where you're sitting!"  
  
Pansy smirked, and just for spite, pushed him over a bit more.  
  
"Well, if you weren't so big, I wouldn't have to move you over, now would I?" She retorted, and then looked back over at Draco, ignoring the irritated expression on Weasley's face.  
  
Draco couldn't help but smile at his frustration, but still didn't say anything to him. Knowing the both of them, they would mention something about his father being in Azkaban—which was still a touchy subject to him, as it was to his mother as well.  
  
Pansy brought his attention back over to her, patting the now larger space to the left side of her.  
  
"There you go," She said matter-of-factly, moving her hand back so he could sit. Draco obliged, and sat down, leaning back as far as he could, on the soft cushioning the seat gave him.  
  
Then, a few minutes later, the train began to shake, indicating that it was on. After this, it hesitantly began to move forward, and eventually began to gain speed. Soon enough, they were out of the train station, and were out into the countryside.

* * *

Draco and Pansy sat in silence for a long while, both waiting for one of the Hogwarts employees to come and tell them the normal announcements.  
  
Finally, one came. The door to the compartment was slid open, and instantly everyone twisted around in their seats, eager to leave the tight area.  
  
It was Professor McGonagall, clothed in her typical emerald robes. Her face was as constricted as ever, her mouth thin and humorless.  
  
"Prefects," She called out, hoping to catch the group's attention, though it was a bit unnecessary.  
  
Once she noticed—or rather made sure that none of them had sheens in their eyes—she continued.  
  
"As all of you now know," She began, "You-Know-Who, and his followers, have returned. Though many of them have been apprehended,"  
  
As soon as she mentioned this, most of the prefects turned in Draco's direction, giving him accusing glares. He simply ignored them, head held high.  
  
"He still has a large union which threatens our school," Professor McGonagall stated, raising her voice a notch so to make them aware of her presence once more. "And I hope that all of you Prefects—"She paused for a moment, and let her gaze linger over every single one of them. "Plus the newly appointed Head Boy and Girl, will handle your House respectfully during times of possible unsettlement."  
  
She then left the compartment without saying another word, and left the sliding door open. The entire group took this as a signal to leave; and then began to stand up and straighten all of their stiff joints, quickly followed by a crowding at the door.  
  
A few people stayed in their seats so not to get stuck; including Draco, Pansy, Weasley, and Granger.  
  
Once everyone else left, the two members of the 'Gryffindor' trio got up and exited, apparently planning to go to the same student compartment together.  
  
Pansy, however, fixed her eyes upon Draco and fluttered her tiny eyelashes. He didn't acknowledge this at all; and waited for her to speak instead.  
  
"I'll see you later, in the common room," She finally told him, after sighing heavily from his lack of interest from before.  
  
Draco nodded in response, and remained where he was as she finally gathered her belongings and left.  
  
At first, he seriously considered staying by himself in the Prefect compartment. However, he soon decided that maybe he should go look for Vincent and Gregory—for he knew that once they got to Hogwarts they would have no idea about where to go, as usual.  
  
As Draco started to depart, he suddenly realized that it was raining, going from the sounds that were coming from the roof—and it wasn't just a normal drizzle, but an actual downpour. He vaguely appreciated that he was inside and dry; but didn't think much of it. Since when did Malfoys such as himself ever truly value something? It just wasn't done, for even one of the old family sayings was 'Don't dwell on the past—Just concentrate on the future and gain more'.  
  
And that was exactly what Draco's life plan included.

* * *

The rest of the train ride was rather uneventful. He found Gregory and Vincent rather easily, since their bulging figures were spotted without a problem through the tiny compartment windows. Luckily, it was only the two of them, so Draco had plenty of time to himself so he could think. (The two rarely ever actually spoke to him anyway—they were exactly like lugging around two bodyguards that never spoke.)  
  
Through the rest of the trip, all Gregory and Vincent did was either arm wrestle, or eat the sweets they had bought from the witch with the cart. It was all quite dull to Draco; but luckily, he was used to it.  
  
And it wasn't as if he had anything to brag about doing during the long, monotonous ride. For all he did was stare out the window, at the pouring rain, and think about his life, and his father's in Azkaban.  
  
A few minutes later, his eyes began to droop, and shortly after that, closed completely.

* * *

"Oh, Dracula, wake up! The train's stopped!" said a feminine voice, which Draco didn't recognize at first.  
  
"Huh?" He said sleepily, opening his eyes. He quickly realized what had happened, and blushed lightly at the thought. He had fallen asleep against the windowpane.  
  
He turned towards the speaker, but then realized she had left. Oh well. It didn't matter, for he knew who it was anyway. Pansy was the only one who would ever call him Dracula.  
  
The next thought that came to his mind was the possibility that the 'horseless' carriages would leave without him. He didn't see a single person walking past his compartment to get off board. So, the next thing he did was to hurry to the carriages, for he was currently both broomless and wandless, and it would take a long while to get to the castle by walking, or even running.  
  
Draco almost let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the carriages were still where they were supposed to be. However, only one carriage door was still open, so he didn't have much of a choice. One last person was climbing into it, as Draco jogged towards it, while straightening his robes of any slight wrinkle.  
  
As he walked up the small steps to get into the carriage, he noticed there was only one other person within it—and that had been the one he had seen climbing into it moments before.  
  
"Hullo, Longbottom," He said with a small trace of sarcasm, as he sat down upon the opposite end of the bench as the other passenger, whom was in Draco's year, but in Gryffindor. His full name was Neville Longbottom, but hardly anyone outside his own house could remember it.  
  
Draco didn't bother to listen to the other's meek reply, and instead busied himself with fixing his somewhat matted blonde hair. After he successfully made it seem a bit better than it was, he leaned back, and sighed heavily, wanting to get to the castle as possible. He was practically starving. He now wished he had accepted a Chocolate Frog Vincent had offered him.  
  
The journey to Hogwarts from the train drop-off seemed to last longer than usual, though in reality it lasted about the same amount of time. When it was time to leave the carriage and go to the Great Hall, Draco couldn't have been more content.

* * *

Nearly the whole school was seated when Draco calmly waltzed into the Great Hall. The new first years were already standing before the Sorting Hat, some of them looking curiously at it, while the rest simply had expressions of great boredom upon their young faces.  
  
Draco strode over to the Slytherin table, and sat between Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini, on the right side of the table.  
  
As the Sorting Hat started to sing its annual song, Draco turned in its direction, though he wasn't really listening to it whatsoever.  
  
Suddenly, he felt someone tapping on his left shoulder. He glanced over at the person who was doing it.  
  
"Stop the consistent tapping, Blaise," He hissed under his breath, sounding annoyed. However, Blaise didn't say a word, and was holding a copy of _The Evening Prophet_ in front of his face.  
  
Draco snatched it from his fingers, and scanned the main headline, and a small smile came across his face as he read it. The main subject read, _'Well-Known Death Eater Escapes Azkaban—No Trace of How, Why, or Where'_.  
  
And the person whom had escaped was indeed his father, Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Draco chuckled lightly, feeling a great burst of pride. How could he have ever doubted his father? He wondered whether he should write a letter to his mother about it, and see if his father had made contact with her yet.  
  
With a gigantic smirk on his face, he handed the paper back to Blaise, and placed his attention back to the sorting. Now, every time a new student was sorted into Slytherin, he clapped harder than anyone else in his whole house—and with good reason.

* * *

When the sorting was completed, Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, stood up to do his routine announcements.  
  
"Good evening, students of all Houses," He stated, sounding incredibly weary for reasons Draco didn't know. "First of all, I would like to welcome the first years to their new school, and I sincerely hope they enjoy their time here.  
  
"The next thing I would like to mention is the fact that we have a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." He paused as some of the older students burst into laughter, and even he began to smile a bit. "Yes, yes, it has become quite the usual proclamation... However, some of you older students may know her already. May I introduce Professor Grubbly-Plank!"  
  
Several students from all the houses let out a yell of approval. In particular the girls, since they remembered the Care of Magical Creatures classes the best, and they definitely approved.  
  
"And now I must declare the start of the feast! I sincerely hope you savor it as much as I do." He said with amazing finality, going back to sitting upon his enormous chair.  
  
Many of the Slytherins were surprised that he hadn't mentioned Voldemort. However, this thought soon vanished from their minds, as food and drinks instantly appeared upon the table, and their ravenous stomachs refused to wait any longer. Hot, steaming food slowly climbed upon each student's plate, and then eaten with astounding agility. Drinks disappeared from goblets in a matter of seconds.  
  
Draco was chewing on a piece of baked chicken, when a wild breakout of laughter emerged from the Gryffindor table. He glanced up to see what they all found funny—and automatically snickered. For it was easy to see what they had found amusing—Weasley had jumped up off the bench, and was running frantically towards the Great Hall doors, holding his mouth, looking as if he were about to vomit. Evidently, he was hoping to reach a bathroom.  
  
As he continued to chuckle, he reached for his golden goblet, to take a sip of his pumpkin juice. If he had bothered to look at it; he would have realized it was a bit redder that usual. Unfortunately, he didn't bother to.  
  
When the liquid first hit his lips, he knew something was wrong with it. However, it was too late to change anything, and he had taken nearly three large gulps of it before he could even spit it out.  
  
As coolly and as to not attract stares, he pushed himself off the bench of the Slytherin table, and headed out of the doors, arms by his side, relieved he had been near it  
  
. He knew he looked rather stiff, but he was struggling to keep his mouth closed—for if he had let it open, he knew he would have made some sort of noise. His skin felt as if it was melting, and apart from that, just felt plain awkward.  
  
When he was out of sight from the majority of the people in Great Hall, he took off running as fast possibly could. He knew he was going to be sick—and even if he wasn't going to be, he needed a mirror just the same.  
  
Draco ran into the nearest bathroom, and ran straight towards the sink, grasping the sides of the sink with both hands. As if on clockwork, a wave of nausea entered his senses, and a wave of vomit exited his mouth.  
  
When that was done, he suddenly felt much better—sickened at the thought that it had to be in a sink, but he knew house elfs would clean it up later.  
  
He straightened himself, and closed his eyes. The nausea was gone, but the awkwardness was still there. Then a voice suddenly broke into his thoughts.  
  
"You. It was you, wasn't it?"  
  
Draco opened his eyes again, and looked in the direction that the voice had come from.  
  
And his eyes met himself, though he certainly wasn't looking into a mirror. This 'alternate' version of himself was wearing Gryffindor robes as well—something he wouldn't be caught dead doing.  
  
"What are you talking about?" He said, his confusion apparent in his tone.  
  
But wait... That voice... It wasn't his!  
  
Yet, he knew it just the same.  
  
Fearfully, he turned towards the mirror that hung above the sink he had been standing beside moments before.  
  
And Weasley's face, complete with flaming red hair and freckles, greeted him.

* * *

__

_End Chapter Two_


	3. Chapter Three

_Living my Enemy's Life  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Written by: Chibi Sephy  
  
On: July tenth, eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth, 2004_

_

* * *

Summary: Every student in Hogwarts knows of Ron Weasley's rivalry with Draco Malfoy. But what if they had to live each other's lives after a deal between Lucius and Voldemort?_

* * *

Draco could do no more than simply stare at the mirror, in blank confusion, his mouth hanging open limply.  
  
"No way," He muttered to himself, once again issuing the other's voice. And this time, being as he now saw himself in the mirror, he saw Weasley's lips mouth the same words.  
  
He began to back away from 'his' reflection, and started to stare at 'his' hands... Which were much darker than his own, though still pale.  
  
The alternate Gryffindor version of himself suddenly walked forward, looking incredibly aggravated.  
  
"How long will it take to wear off?" He said, demanding an answer from Draco. His voice was firm, and his fists were clenched. "Answer me, Malfoy!"  
  
"How am I supposed to know?!" Draco snapped back, "I don't even understand what's going on now, nonetheless in the _future_!"  
  
"Liar!" The other shouted. "Why else would you be me? You know I'm a friend of Harry's, and you want to help your _'Dark Lord'_ capture him! I know it!"  
  
Draco, at these words, suddenly realized what was going on. He also wondered why he didn't connect all the clues together sooner.  
  
"Weasley?" He croaked out, and though he already knew that was indeed who it was; he was still in slight disbelief.  
  
'Weasley' didn't bother to answer, and instead began to look at himself, a look of extreme disgust apparent over his features.  
  
Draco couldn't help but find this incredibly bizarre—after all, it's not every day that you get to see yourself the way he was now.  
  
"This is Polyjuice, right?" Weasley questioned, staring at Draco in the eye. Draco didn't answer, for he really _didn't_ know. So, instead, he only gave a light shrug.  
  
"...So it should wear off in an hour or so," He continued, apparently having ignored Draco's simple movement.  
  
"You sure?" Draco responded quickly, hoping dearly that an hour was the true time limit. He could easily wait that out—it was just the thought that he might be this way for a lot longer that worried him.  
  
Weasley, instead of answering, began to lean on the wall, obviously intending on staying in the bathroom until the spell wore off. Draco intended on doing the same thing, but instead of moving to the wall, he took a few steps backward, so that he was more in the middle of the bathroom. That way, he could hear anyone approaching the door, and so could hide before they saw him.  
  
For there was no way he would be seen the way he was now. It would be a disgrace, more so than it already was.  
  
Draco then noticed that Weasley seemed to be watching him, 'his' pale hand upon wand. He couldn't help but smirk a bit at this.  
  
"What?" He said, tone of slight amusement in his voice. "You seriously think I would actually _show myself in public_ looking like you?"  
  
The other simply scoffed, apparently trying to hold back a sharp comment. His cheeks had turned a pale pink at this time.  
  
"But if I were you at this moment," Draco continued, "I'd be showing myself off a bit more than normal. For I am, after all, quite popular with the ladies."  
  
Weasley shook his head, and rolled his eyes.  
  
"When you actually become 'popular with the ladies'," He stated sarcastically, his tone heavy with spite. "I'll be the Minister of Magic."  
  
Draco couldn't help but scowl, his now blue eyes flashing dangerously.  
  
"At least I have a girlfriend, unlike a certain someone," He replied quickly.  
  
"I do so have a girlfriend!" Weasley retorted, his teeth now clenched together.  
  
"Oh, who?" Draco said, "That filthy little Mudblood Granger? Dating her would be as worthy as dating a goat!"  
  
"Don't you dare call her a Mudblood!" Weasley shouted, his voice threatening. "And no, she's not my girlfriend!"  
  
Draco felt a bit of pride come over him, already knowing he had won this particular argument.  
  
"So, who is this 'lucky lady' then?" He questioned calmly, his tone of voice much quieter than before.  
  
"Well... Uh... You see...." Weasley mumbled, and though the pink look had disappeared a moment ago, it had quickly come back.  
  
A satisfied smile came across Draco's face, but soon disappeared.  
  
"How long has it been?" He asked, almost nervously.  
  
Weasley had apparently thought of this as well, and his eyes grew wide.  
  
"I'm not sure," He responded. "...But it's been way longer than an hour."  
  
"But I thought you said it would wear off in an hour, you little Weasel!" Draco said irritably, becoming slightly panicked.  
  
"I didn't know! I wasn't sure!" The other countered. "I'm not even sure we are going to turn back to normal...." At this, he paled dramatically, as if saying the words would make it actually happen.  
  
"Of course we're going to turn back to normal!" Draco stated, though he neglected the fact he wasn't quite sure when.  
  
"But what if we don't anytime soon? We can't very well stay in the bathroom forever...unless you want to be known as the 'Amazing Bathroom Boy', or something." Weasley said, crossing his arms, and looking as if he were thinking deeply.  
  
"So what do you suggest we do," Draco said sarcastically, "Act as each other? Sorry, Weasley, but I don't believe I can act like a _disgraceful_ person like yourself."  
  
"It's not like I think I can act exactly like you either, you little _ferret_," Weasley said lowly, "But we can't do anything else right now, though, can we?"  
  
Draco was silent, staring hauntingly at the floor, twiddling his thumbs together absentmindedly.  
  
"Fine," He finally muttered, "Fine. Although someone's bound to find something's wrong with us on our first day."  
  
Weasley nodded in agreement, knowing this was probably true.  
  
"So... What's your full name?" He then questioned. Draco blinked in surprise, finding this question to be far from what he thought it would be. "You know... In case we have to say it or sign it, somewhere."  
  
"Oh... My name's Draco Armel Malfoy," He answered curtly, "Yours?"  
  
"Ronald Bilious Weasley," Weasley responded, in a toneless way. "Though most people—in Gryffindor mostly—call me Ron. As you should know."  
  
Draco simply stared.  
  
"Bilious?" He said in a strangled tone of voice, broad grin upon his face. "What kind of name is that?"  
  
"A better one than _Draco_," Weasley said quickly, looking annoyed. "Now, anything else I should know about you before I go out as a nasty little Slytherin?"  
  
Draco didn't say anything for a moment, placing his hand on his chin.  
  
"Not really," He said finally. "And the only thing I need to know about you is the names of everybody in your humongous family."  
  
"First of all," Weasley answered, "There's my mum and dad. My mother's name is Molly; my father's is Arthur. Then there are my older brothers—Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George. None of them go to Hogwarts anymore; so you don't have to worry about coming across them. But Ginny, my little sister still goes here. She's in her fifth year now."  
  
"Very well," Draco stated in acknowledgment, "Five older brothers, and one little sister. Got it. Now, ready to go to the common rooms, and try our luck?"  
  
Weasley shrugged halfheartedly, and gave a small sigh.  
  
"I guess so," He mumbled, "But we can't go around wearing our own school robes," He said moments afterward, pointing to the Gryffindor insignia upon the upper part of his robes.  
  
Draco looked down upon his own robes, which had Slytherin markings upon it. A small frown came across his face as he stared at it, being as he was still reluctant to trade them for Gryffindor clothes.  
  
Before he could start having second thoughts, he automatically tore his eyes away from the snake marking. Weasley seemed to be hesitant about parting with the lion marking as well.  
  
"Let's get this over with," He finally told Draco, letting the robes slide off his shoulders, and then handing it over.  
  
Instead of grabbing it, Draco took of his own, and then switched with him. Then, with great dismay, they both noticed that they would need to switch sweaters as well, being as some of the fringes had the opposite's colors.  
  
So, they repeated the same process once again, and switched shoes as well. (Draco's were a bit more 'higher-class'... And he definitely wasn't too happy about having to get rid of them.)  
  
Fortunately for the both of them, their pants were similar enough that there was no true need to change them. There was a small height difference, but nothing too drastic.  
  
"The Gryffindor common room is on the seventh floor," Weasley explained, after everything else was sorted out. "You'll have to say the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady. There will probably be someone around to give you the password...."  
  
Draco couldn't help but grin.  
  
"When I'm back to normal, I'll be able to do some major spying. Thanks a lot, Weasley."  
  
"Ron," The other corrected. Draco raised a brow. "You know, so we'll get used to each other's names. Just so we'll... Er... Remember the name."  
  
"So you're going to call me Draco, then?" He questioned, finding this to be amusing. 'Ron' simply shrugged.  
  
"I guess now I'll have to tell you where the Slytherin area is," Draco muttered begrudgingly. "It's—"  
  
"No need to tell me," Ron said hastily, though there was a somewhat familiar smirk on his face.  
  
Draco stared, surprised.  
  
"I'll just find Crabbe and Goyle—to test how I act like you," Ron explained quickly, so to avoid telling him what he did in his second year.  
  
"I wouldn't recommend hanging onto them to find your way," Draco replied. "But do as you wish."  
  
Ron was silent, before starting a new topic.  
  
"Try not to make me act like an arrogant Pureblooded git," He ordered.  
  
"And you try not to make me seem like a Mudblood lover," Draco said back, not taking him too seriously.  
  
"And you better not give any information to your '_Dark Lord'_ about Harry," Ron responded—apparently the Mudblood comment had agitated him. "Or hurt Hermione. If you do I'll... I'll...."  
  
Draco then gave a fake dramatic yawn, showing that he cared not for this conversation.  
  
Ron fell silent, and looked away, expression of annoyance on his face.  
  
"Let's go ahead and go," He said moments later, in an incredibly cold tone of voice.  
  
Instead of replying verbally, Draco began to walk out of the bathroom, and turned right, heading towards the stairs to get to the Gryffindor common room.  
  
Seconds later, Ron left the bathroom as well, but turned left towards the dark dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was located. The look on his face showed that he was indeed not very happy with his ending destination.

* * *

_End Chapter Three_


	4. Chapter Four

_Living my Enemy's Life  
Chapter Four  
  
Written by: Chibi Sephy  
  
On: July thirtieth, 2004._

* * *

Summary: Every student in Hogwarts knows of Ron Weasley's rivalry with Draco Malfoy. But what if they had to live each other's lives after a deal  
between Lucius and Voldemort?

* * *

  
  
Draco climbed up the steps slowly; taking his time. He was hoping, for the first time in his life, that a Gryffindor would come by.  
  
Unfortunately, this failed to happen, though he did find the portrait of the Fat Lady quick enough.  
  
"Password?" She said in a high-pitched tone, causing Draco to jump a bit. He hadn't expected the object that held access to the Gryffindor Tower to actually speak.  
  
Draco didn't say a word; and instead took a few steps backward; thinking of what he thought might be possible Gryffindor passwords.  
  
"Er... Muggleborn?" He said quietly, and when the Fat Lady shook his head, he sighed heavily, and looked at the ground, great concentration evident on his face.  
  
While he was contemplating other passwords, the door suddenly swung open—and no one came out. Draco looked around frantically for a sign of a single person, yet there was not a soul.  
  
"Who's there?" He said nervously, staying where he was, yet quite tense.  
  
"Ron!" A feminine voice said suddenly—before appearing right in front of him, right out of thin air. Right beside her, appearing at the exact same moment, was a dark haired male.  
  
Granger and Potter.  
  
"What the?!" Draco shouted, purely out of impulse. This was the second time in his life that he had seen Potter randomly spawn up in front of him... But it certainly didn't make it seem any less surprising given the prior knowledge. "Where have you been?" Granger hissed, "We've been waiting for you for hours!"  
  
"I've been... In the hospital wing," He replied quickly, hoping that the lie would please them enough. Luckily, it did.  
  
"Oh," Potter and Granger said simultaneously.  
  
"Are you feeling better now?" Potter questioned.  
  
"Lots," Draco said calmly, noting out of the corner of his eye that Potter had a cloak in his hand. Although he had seen only a few cloaks like that in his entire life; he was sure he knew exactly what it was—an invisibility cloak.  
  
"I'm glad," Granger said a moment later, with a small nod. Draco didn't bother to reply.  
  
"How about we go into the common room now?" He suddenly questioned eagerly, after a minute of complete silence. The two others stared at him in confusion, wondering why he was looking forward to seeing the common room that 'he' had seen for years already.  
  
"Er... I'm somewhat tired," He explained quickly, after noticing the expressions on their faces.  
  
At this response, both Potter and Granger turned on their heals to come face to face with the portrait of that Fat Lady.  
  
"Fortis," Granger said loudly, and the Fat Lady nodded, nearly flying open at the same time. Both of them then went inside, expecting Draco to follow. And without a single backwards glance, he did so.

* * *

Ron Weasley was walking absentmindedly towards the Slytherin common room, which he had luckily remembered the entrance to. Currently, he was entering the dungeons, which were cold and wet, as always.  
  
At the moment, his arms were crossed, and he was staring at the ground, his now gray eyes half closed.  
  
He was _Malfoy_.  
  
His very own worst enemy—whom had, since the day they had met, taunted his family for being poor, and for being a 'Muggle-loving' sort.  
  
The fact had just began to sink in... The harsh reality that there was a possibility that he wouldn't change back to himself.  
  
He stopped right in the middle of his hasty stride, and uncrossed his arms.  
  
"No Ron," He said to himself under his breath in an aggravated tone of voice, "You'll be back to normal soon."  
  
"Oh Dracula!" Shouted a high-pitched tone of voice from behind him, which caused him to jump a bit in surprise. He quickly turned around, to see who it was.  
  
It was Pansy Parkinson, whom was running towards him as fast as she possibly could.  
  
Ron automatically felt his stomach clench.  
  
"Where did you go?" She questioned once she finally reached him, as she gasped for air. "Everyone in our year's waiting for you in the common room! They were so sure that..." She paused suddenly, and then looked over her shoulder, as if to check if anyone was near. "Your father had come to visit you." She eventually stated in a hushed whisper.  
  
Ron stared.  
  
"I guess not then," She said in a depressed voice, when he failed to reply. Ron simply nodded.  
  
"So where _have_ you been, then?" She asked, not feeling fulfilled with only finding him.  
  
"The library," He responded hastily, causing Pansy to raise a brow.  
  
"Er... Someone told me about this really wicked curse, and I wanted to learn more about it," He explained with a subtle nod.  
  
"Right," She said back disbelievingly, "So, do you want to go back to the common room now?"  
  
Ron swallowed deeply, and then nodded once more, with surprising confidence.  
  
Pansy smiled a tiny bit, and then leaned closer to him. Ron dearly wished that he could move back, but he knew it would be a very suspicious thing to do.  
  
"I always appreciate the fact that we're going to be married in the future, due to our parents' decision," She said to him lowly, smile growing wider by the second. Shortly after this, she bent forward even more, and kissed him lightly on the lips.  
  
Ron immediately reeled backwards, disgusted—why, of all things to do, did she have to do _that_?! It would have been fine had it been any other girl besides this one.... (Of course, the other Slytherin girls wouldn't have been much better candidates, but still...)  
  
To him, _all_ Slytherins were contaminated, dirty creatures.  
  
"What's _wrong _with you, Draco?" Pansy shouted, hands on her hips, now frowning. "You've been acting so... So... Weird."  
  
Ron attempted to act confused, as to get her off his back.

"What do you mean?" He asked, trying to place a puzzled expression upon his face.

"Just how you've been saying things that you normally wouldn't _ever_ say. Like 'wicked'." Pansy responded, sounding worried.

Ron had no idea about what to say about this, so he tried to change the subject--or rather, get out of _any more_ subjects.  
  
"How about we just go back to the common room?" He requested, trying to edge a slight pleading expression upon his face. (He now wished that he knew how Draco treated Pansy—that would have made this so much easier.)  
  
"Well," She said, staring at him, frown disappearing as she saw the look on his face. "Fine. They're probably wondering where I am now, anyway. Come on."  
  
"Right," Ron said huskily, not knowing whether to feel relieved with this or no.  
  
Pansy then turned on her heel, towards the direction of the Slytherin common room. Ron wordlessly took a few quick steps forward, coming to a slower pace as he caught up with her. However, he didn't risk another conversation with her, despite this somewhat brave move. Although she did try to start another....

* * *

A little while later, they came across the blank wall, which served as entrance to the Slytherin common room. Pansy stated the password, 'Green- eyed serpent', and the wall slid out of view.  
  
Pansy beckoned him inside, making sure he went in first, for reasons that Ron didn't wish to find out.  
  
Unfortunately, he soon did...  
  
Just as Pansy had told him before, the entire Slytherin sixth year was waiting for them to arrive—and all of their eyes were now upon him.  
  
This certainly hadn't been the entry to the common room that Ron had hoped for....

* * *

_End Chapter Four_


End file.
